"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace."
My 5th graders stand on a hillside in bright sunshine and shout the words, playing with an app that superimposes their playful squeals with special effects - rock slides and flying cars. And, I am caught in the tension of it.
These beautiful words, and the realities that they are echoing, unknowing.
Missile strikes that are as unreal to them as the giant spider effect or the USS Enterprise flying across the screen. A conflict in Syria that has been going on since they were six or seven years old. South Sudan. The Gaza Strip. Refugees returning to rebuild in the Ukraine. Ferguson. The list goes on and on and on.
And, yet, we are here, running, laughing, playing, building these beautiful words into them, so that, when they start to know, they will have something to stand under, something to hold on to.
"In this world you will have trouble. But, take heart! I have overcome the world."
John 16:33
Because, if these words were true in the midst of Jesus' upper room discourse: occupied Palestine, Roman brutality, a soon to be crucified Christ, soon to be scattered disciples, then, they are certainly true now.
True for our 5th graders who are growing up into a messy world. True for the 8th graders, about to feel themselves scattered to new schools and new challenges. True for our high schoolers, far more aware of current events, walking forwards without a youth pastor even as we find ourselves with more and more children.
There is peace here.
In the midst of this tension.
Middle schoolers who sit, enthralled, watching stories of people who were unafraid to step out and do big things - small things, with great faith. We talk about it a little in breakout groups, and I bite my tongue, try not to push them too hard, try to let this be a thing that they come up with on their own. Because, they already have ideas. They simply need a space to let them grow.
Because, these 8th graders are firmly caught in a tension of their own, deciding, each week, what skin they are going to try on for the day. Chameleon like, testing to see what feels safest for this transition up to high school. This group or that group? Familiar or new? And, of course, whether or not to let any of these strangely zealous adults along for the ride.
So, we dance.
In the midst of the phone borrowing and video taking and game playing happening around us, we dance with emotion and expectation and responsibility. Steps that I half remember from my own 8th grade year. Movements that the mama bear in me wishes I could shield them from, and others that I wish I could capture, let them hold on to.
Remember this, guys. Remember that brief moment of certainty, of belonging, of knowing that the God of the universe thinks you enough.
Remember that you are never alone.
Because, I would gather them all up if I thought it would help, these 8th graders and these juniors who are so alike. Climb with them to the Top of the World - climb, not drive, because their bodies need to move to listen. Tip their heads back to the stars. And, tell them again and again.
You. Are. Not. Alone.
Not when you have my full attention in the hallway, and not when our small group is too big but you give it your best anyways. When church is long over and the emotions come bigger than you ever wanted to handle. When there are people everywhere and you think that you're excited about it, but you're also pretty sure of the frustration that must have led that man's friends to dig a hole in the roof. Even then, you are not alone.
And, you are loved.
More than the words that catch in my throat would ever be able to express. You are loved with an infinite, restless, unceasing Love. You are precious. Treasured. Held in the palm of one who is captivated by the details of your being.
The God big enough to contain an ever expanding universe loves you with a love that never ends.
We love you with as much of that echo as we can fit into our finite souls.
You are never alone.
Our course, I'm pretty sure that there is a chapter in the leaders' handbook about NOT totally freaking kids out. So, we'll go with icebreaker questions and high fives instead and let them go out star tripping after youth group on their own. Because, even when we aren't very good at saying it, holy cow, do we ever love these kids.
It is Lent. The tension of waiting. Waiting for the beautiful. The Resurrection. Knowing that the Passion and the Crucifixion come first.
Searching for Peace in the midst of a world full of troubles.
"But, take heart! I have overcome the world."
My 5th graders stand on a hillside in bright sunshine and shout the words, playing with an app that superimposes their playful squeals with special effects - rock slides and flying cars. And, I am caught in the tension of it.
These beautiful words, and the realities that they are echoing, unknowing.
Missile strikes that are as unreal to them as the giant spider effect or the USS Enterprise flying across the screen. A conflict in Syria that has been going on since they were six or seven years old. South Sudan. The Gaza Strip. Refugees returning to rebuild in the Ukraine. Ferguson. The list goes on and on and on.
And, yet, we are here, running, laughing, playing, building these beautiful words into them, so that, when they start to know, they will have something to stand under, something to hold on to.
"In this world you will have trouble. But, take heart! I have overcome the world."
John 16:33
Because, if these words were true in the midst of Jesus' upper room discourse: occupied Palestine, Roman brutality, a soon to be crucified Christ, soon to be scattered disciples, then, they are certainly true now.
True for our 5th graders who are growing up into a messy world. True for the 8th graders, about to feel themselves scattered to new schools and new challenges. True for our high schoolers, far more aware of current events, walking forwards without a youth pastor even as we find ourselves with more and more children.
There is peace here.
In the midst of this tension.
Middle schoolers who sit, enthralled, watching stories of people who were unafraid to step out and do big things - small things, with great faith. We talk about it a little in breakout groups, and I bite my tongue, try not to push them too hard, try to let this be a thing that they come up with on their own. Because, they already have ideas. They simply need a space to let them grow.
Because, these 8th graders are firmly caught in a tension of their own, deciding, each week, what skin they are going to try on for the day. Chameleon like, testing to see what feels safest for this transition up to high school. This group or that group? Familiar or new? And, of course, whether or not to let any of these strangely zealous adults along for the ride.
So, we dance.
In the midst of the phone borrowing and video taking and game playing happening around us, we dance with emotion and expectation and responsibility. Steps that I half remember from my own 8th grade year. Movements that the mama bear in me wishes I could shield them from, and others that I wish I could capture, let them hold on to.
Remember this, guys. Remember that brief moment of certainty, of belonging, of knowing that the God of the universe thinks you enough.
Remember that you are never alone.
Because, I would gather them all up if I thought it would help, these 8th graders and these juniors who are so alike. Climb with them to the Top of the World - climb, not drive, because their bodies need to move to listen. Tip their heads back to the stars. And, tell them again and again.
You. Are. Not. Alone.
Not when you have my full attention in the hallway, and not when our small group is too big but you give it your best anyways. When church is long over and the emotions come bigger than you ever wanted to handle. When there are people everywhere and you think that you're excited about it, but you're also pretty sure of the frustration that must have led that man's friends to dig a hole in the roof. Even then, you are not alone.
And, you are loved.
More than the words that catch in my throat would ever be able to express. You are loved with an infinite, restless, unceasing Love. You are precious. Treasured. Held in the palm of one who is captivated by the details of your being.
The God big enough to contain an ever expanding universe loves you with a love that never ends.
We love you with as much of that echo as we can fit into our finite souls.
You are never alone.
Our course, I'm pretty sure that there is a chapter in the leaders' handbook about NOT totally freaking kids out. So, we'll go with icebreaker questions and high fives instead and let them go out star tripping after youth group on their own. Because, even when we aren't very good at saying it, holy cow, do we ever love these kids.
It is Lent. The tension of waiting. Waiting for the beautiful. The Resurrection. Knowing that the Passion and the Crucifixion come first.
Searching for Peace in the midst of a world full of troubles.
"But, take heart! I have overcome the world."
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